Chapter Text
There weren’t many places in Zaun where someone could just be.
Gathering through city streets, the air having the tolerated smell of sulfur, piss and grey. Every surface having some kind of sticky or slick texture while the city never slept in its endless noise. Music playing, street performers begging for credits, food stands that never closed, decorated under the dying lights of string candles. There was always something going on. In a way you were never alone, always some poor addict in the shit, or slick asshole trying to get a pay out.
At the very least being who she was made it so not many people bothered her. Sevika was a large woman, standing a head taller then most. Features set in a perfectly mannered bitch face of someone who was in a constant state of annoyance and boredom. Silco’s right hand man, a scary woman is what she was called. But even she had issues of finding a spot to just exist without the hot air nipping at the back of her neck. Zaun, it was always around her, her home, her people. But like any family member even she needed a break from the constant noise.
Her solace would come in the form of a dark section of alleyway. Hidden between a brothel mural and an iron trash can that seemed to have been melted into the ground by some idiot. Boarded windows hiding the intact glass on the other side. A sign reading “The garden” bolted beside it. Letters so worn in that the place almost looked abandoned had it not for the smell that would waft through the poorly sealed door. Sevika took a moment, the chaos of Zaun at her back like a needy lover pulling at the loose folds of her cloak to breathe at her neck. She took one last king puff of her cigar that was loosely hanging from her lips before putting it out in the same spot on that trash can. A muscular arm using just enough force to reveal the secrets inside.
The moment that door closed behind her with a heavy thud, it felt as if she had been cut off from the entire world. The first time it was alarming, it made her skin crawl not being around the familiar sound and smell of her city. But over the months of coming she started to find it a guilty pleasure. A coffee shop no larger than the brothel parlor. More coffee stand with four walls and a roof than a shop. The Wood floor had a dark stain, its counter having enough space for two seats and if someone was lucky, a table that seemed to have been dragged for miles and spruced up, was crammed in the corner. One old granny looking chair having its back to the brick wall.
It was the smell that got her though. It didn’t taste like Zaun in here. No grey, no piss or sweat or the familiar scent of utter desperation, just the rich smell of coffee. The space lit by the warm glow of a old green lamp of frosted glass that sat on the counter. Not even music played here, just quiet peaceful silence and the deep smell of roasted beans.
“Oh, well if it isn’t my most loyal customer.” Sevika never knew where the woman came from. She always just appeared, usually from behind the counter itself that looked too small for her to even lie in. A small thing who’s dark curly hair was pulled back in a bun that never wanted to stay together. Her freckled face decorating tanned skin in a softness that shown a woman who never worked the mines. Even her eyes held a strange quiet nature about them, always looking like she was half asleep despite almost always nursing a cup of espresso that gone cold long ago. “The usual?” She asked, already reaching for a shelf behind her.
“Yeah.” She answered, not really wanting to disturb her one moment of peace and quiet. Silco had her doing his dirty work from dusk to dawn. Hunting traitors and shaking down informants. It was a rare time she had whenever the man wasn’t calling her like some prince in need of his knight in shining armor.
The woman worked in silence at first. Her golden eyes flicking to her from time to time as Sevika grabbed the week old newspaper to skim. The only sound being the clicks and taps of glass and metal before a cup of hot black coffee was set in front of her. Before it was followed by a few sugar cubes, but it seems she finally got the hint and left the frivolous things out. Her hand grasped the glass, lingering just a moment to enjoy the warmth in her palm. “Thanks.” Before taking her long drink, knowing in a few hours she would be needing it for the long night ahead.
It was a ritual, one she didn’t share with anyone. Her quiet moment to herself, reading a paper that was days behind. Sometimes watching as the barista worked on cleaning a glass or tinkering with some sort of gadget she must of found out in the city. Eventually leaning across the counter, her black shirt pulled up at her elbows as their eyes met. Watching the other for a few short moments before the soldier would toss her paper down in a silent confirmation that she could break that sacred silence. “I’m gonna say Triss.” Her voice holding the smallest hint of a tease, holding her cheek in her hand as she waited for the larger woman’s reaction.
“That's your worst take yet.” Replied Sevika, taking the cup that seemed almost too small for her hands before downing it. The barista reaching for the glass to refill as she always done.
“Well I’m running out of names. I was so certain I got you pegged as Cassandra.” The confession only made Sevika snort, she liked that about this woman, she didn’t know if she kept her head down on purpose or was just blind. But ever since she found this hole in the wall it became apparent she didn’t keep up with names or faces of anyone in Zaun or Piltover. She kept her world small, sometimes feeling like it didn’t extend past this little shop. There was no talk of her work, no mention of the tyrants up top or even the crushing blows felt down below. The most common topic of conversation being how she would try to guess Sevika’s name after she refused to give it, only to be more and more wrong each time.
“You could just tell me you know. I see you here a lot.” Continued the barista as she set down another glass.
“Rather not.” She replied, taking it and once again enjoying the bitter taste. She had no idea how or where this woman got such good tasting coffee, but she was going to do everything she possibly could to make sure it never changed.
“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” She insisted, once again leaning on the counter with nothing better to do.
“Freckles.”
“What?” The woman’s golden eyes opened a little more then usual, blinking in confusion at her comment, it only caused Sevika to smirk. Shifting on her stool while taking up her side of the counter.
“Figured out your name, it’s freckles. Easy enough.” Sevika replied, watching as the woman in question turned from confusion, to a little pout at the realization that she lost this battle. She wasn’t getting her name, she liked being a stranger here. Liked watching a pretty woman and not having to deal with her figuring out her connection to Zaun. This was her little spot, and she wasn’t changing it.
“You’re so rude sometimes, ya know that?” Huffed the barista, Freckles pushing herself from the counter before pulling out a rag to clean the already polished surface of grainy wood.
“I don’t think you know what rude is, else you wouldn’t be calling me that.” She laid her payment on the counter, the symbol that their little jests were over. Always a few credits more than she asked for, always demanding she keep the change as she nursed her coffee while finishing her paper. Every now and then watching the freckled face of the shop owner work on cleaning or writing. Sevika never did linger long though. Zaun was a needy thing, always pulling her back. Eventually standing up to leave, thanking the owner before closing the door behind her. Taking great care in pulling it tight so none of the warmth would escape before she would go about her business. The dark alley at her back, her well kept secret.